


Murphy's Law (or Why Housework Is Bad For Your Health)

by Pretending2BeMe



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretending2BeMe/pseuds/Pretending2BeMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of fluff inspired by a conversation with a friend about how much we both hate housework.</p>
<p>I wrote this about two years ago & it was my first ever Pros Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murphy's Law (or Why Housework Is Bad For Your Health)

Doyle was about to push the intercom button to Bodie’s flat when he heard a crash from inside followed by a worrying sound of pain. Banging his fist on the door he yelled for his partner,

“BODIE!”

More crashing sounds, more expressions of pain followed by a resounding,

“Oh For Fuck Sake!”

Doyle had sudden visions of his partner being beaten to pulp by a gang of marauding thugs and, reaching for his gun with one hand he hammered again on the door with the other,

“Bodie!! Open up!!”

Silence…

Ray took one step backwards and, turning sideward he prepared to shoulder the door. As Doyle lunged violently forwards, the door opened and he cannoned full-force into his partner, knocking him to the ground and landing heavily on top of him in a painful heap.

“Bloody hell, Doyle! Why can’t you just ring the bell like normal people?!” Bodie grouched as he shoved his partner off and got to his feet.

Heaving himself upright and holstering his gun Doyle explained the reason for his unorthodox entry.

Bodie’s ire broke and he began to chuckle,

“Doyle, you dope! The only thing attacking me was the contents of the hall cupboard, look – Bodie turned and swung his arm round behind him to illustrate his point.

“I only went in there for the dustpan and my fishing gear smacked me in the face and my football donked me on the head and…and you can stop bloody laughing for a start!”

Wiping a hand over his mouth and putting on his best ‘serious’ face Doyle said, with only a hint of a laugh,

“Sorry, sorry, go on, you were saying – your football…PUHAHA!!!” The words were lost as Doyle collapsed in a fit of giggles. Bodie, seeing the funny side at last, playfully punched his partner on the arm,

“Just for that Sunshine, you can help me clear out the infernal thing!” he said with a grin.

 ***

Fifteen minutes and a can of lager each later, Operation Organized was in full swing. A myriad of items had been removed from the cupboard by Bodie and had been sorted into neat piles by Doyle.

“Blimey Bodie, You sure it’s a cupboard and not the TARDIS? If you see Tom Baker in there, let us know.”

“Alright Ray, keep your curls on, nearly there… Here! Look at this –" Bodie reversed out of the cupboard, bringing with him a small but obviously well-used and well-loved, air rifle.

“This was the first gun I ever owned; my dad gave it me for my ninth birthday – great innit”

Doyle stared back blankly, “Wonderful. Come on, hurry up -"

Bodie cut him off with an incredulous snort “You’re missing the point, Doyle. This is better than wonderful, this gun is… is…special. It was my first, you see.” Bodie paused, tilted his chin sideways and planting his tongue firmly in his cheek he contuinued, “Your first is always special innit”

“Trust you to get romantic over weaponry!” Doyle teased in return.

With the sudden enthusiasm of a child, Bodie still brandishing the rifle, bounced from foot to foot, “Ere, sod the housework, lets give this a go shall we, come on, I’m sure I’ve got some caps for it somewhere”

“For Christ sake Bodie, we shoot stuff every bleeding day at work, I don’t wanna do it on my day off as well” Doyle whined.

As Bodie disappeared back into the cupboard, Doyle knew it was pointless to gripe further; once his best friend got something in his head, there was no stopping him. The only solution was to indulge his inner infant until it was out of his system. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Doyle went through to the kitchen to fetch more beer.

 ***

Due to some mysterious misunderstanding (well, alright, a tall blonde named Deborah) in the accommodation department of CI5, Bodie had ended up being assigned a flat with a large balcony that over-looked Camden canal. And it was here that Bodie and Doyle sat, perched on two plastic chairs, drinking lager and firing air rifle pellets onto the deserted tow-path and the still water below.

“Bet you can’t hit that newspaper” Bodie said, pointing,

“Easy” Doyle bragged, taking aim

“Hold on, someone’s coming” broke in Bodie “’Ere, look, it’s Murph!” He paused, and a look of sheer devilment ran through his eyes as he watched his colleague stroll past, whistling happily to himself. “Quick, give us the gun” – Not bothering to wait for an answer, Bodie whipped the gun out of his partners hand and lined up the shot.

“Bodie don’t, He’ll kill you!!” Doyle warned a nano-second too late as Bodie pulled the trigger and the shot hit its target.

Murphy let out a strangled cry of confused pain as CI5’s finest duo dived out of sight and dissolved into a fit of giggles on the balcony floor like a pair of schoolboys.

******************

 It was a little after 8am the next morning and Bodie was in the squad-room making his second cup of tea of the day when the door opened and Murphy limped in. Glancing quickly over to where his partner was leaning against the wall, Bodie couldn’t help but grin.

“Alright, Murph?” asked Doyle as lightly as he could.

“No I’m bloody not, thank you very much” muttered Murphy as he lowered himself gingerly onto the sofa.

“Wassup mate? Tea?” asked an all-too-innocent Bodie.

“What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up shall I. Some little bastard shot me with an air rifle, that’s what’s up. Right in the arse too. Bloody kids today; want beltin’, the lot of ‘em.” Murphy paused in his diatribe to shift his weight in an effort to stop the throb of pain in his left buttock.

Bodie just managed to stuff a biscuit in his mouth before the laughter took over. Gaining some sort of comfort, Murphy continued his rant, “It’s not bloody funny, you know. Right mucked up my date with Susan it did, weeks of work, down the bloody drain”.

At this, Bodie couldn’t hold back any longer and, sinking to his knees he howled with laughter, spraying biscuit crumbs across the floor. In his hilarity, Bodie failed to notice Murphy pull a catapult from his pocket…

Doyle however did not, and folding his arms across his chest, he leant back to enjoy the show.

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
